


Blood & Rosewater

by Blue_GhostGhost (Delphyne)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Dubious Consent, Hate to Love, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Slave, Presumed Dead, Slash, Slavery, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Keith (Voltron), Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphyne/pseuds/Blue_GhostGhost
Summary: Lance, Hunk and Pidge are a trained vampire hunting team and they are ready to take down Keith, a vamp they've been tracking since some nonsense that went down in Seattle. But when they end up in rural Oregon one night and it seems like the best time to strike, things do not go as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eeep! Super new new new to the fandom and not sure if I got it right AT ALL. Would love to hear your thoughts/criticisms etc! I'm not a native Spanish speaker so I adore corrections when needed. Also my tiny bit of Spanish is mostly California based and my understanding is that Lance's fam is Cuban so I'm doing my best to honor that and not make him sound like he's from East LA if that makes any sense.

I sipped at my beer, eyes narrowing as the man we’d been following paid his tab. I was anxious and restless, twitchy for something interesting to happen after days of waiting around in the middle of nowhere. More than anything I wanted to get this job done and be gone. The damp, wooded landscape of rural Oregon didn’t agree with me, too dense and secretive--like something out of a perverse fairytale, the air smelling of decay, fleshy wet things and something worse than Hunk’s breath after a night out drinking. 

 

And seriously, I really hated the mud: mud on my clothes and shoes, mud in the car, mud thicker than blood smearing across my skin. Days of tramping around these rain drenched forests had taken their toll. The sooner this job was finished and we could head back down south to the Garrison the better. Give me the bone bleached honesty of open sky and high desert any day, the grey blanket of dust and Joshua trees, the hot bright smell of sagebrush. I’d spent two years training out in those dry forgotten mesas before getting set loose on my first field assignments and usually I enjoyed the freedom of being on the road, the independence and the unpredictability was kinda my thing, but something was really fucked up about this place and I honestly didn’t want to learn the particulars of it.  _ El infierno está vacío y todos los demonios están aquí. _

 

I shrugged off my apprehension and gave my partner the signal for us to move out. It wasn’t like this was different than dozens of the other jobs we’d done and man was I looking forward to an actual fight. Hunk nodded, pulling out some cash and leaving it on the bar. He was a bulk of a man, his substantial frame and warm brown complexion courtesy of his Samoan heritage, the unfortunate deployment of khaki from head to toe, on the other hand, was a decision made all on his own. We’d been working together long enough for the safari look to 1) no longer phase Me and 2) for me to trust Hunk on pretty much anything outside the context of fashion, including with my life. 

 

“Alright muchachos, the target just left,” I said lightly, stepping outside. “And we’re in pursuit of his ass, obviously.” Rain rolled down my leather jacket as I fumbled with the keys to the truck. “Ready to have some fun?” 

 

“ _ Finally _ ,” Pidge’s voice said through our ear pieces with an impatient huff. I could hear the sudden stacado of fingers across a keyboard, blending strangely with the sound of rain in the trees. Pidge had been assigned to us for a little over a year, acting as their homebase wonk during their sojourns into the world. 

 

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me. That place was  _ nasty _ .” I climbed into the cab of the truck, cracking the window before lighting a cigarette as I watched the object of our mission pull out of the parking lot.  _ Soon Cabron.  _ Hunk climbed into the passenger seat a moment later, pulling a metal briefcase out from under the seat and onto his lap. “I kinda felt like the only pretty girl at a greyhound bus station.” I said, “Like seriously, mis amigos, the fuckabilty of literally anyone else in there…”

 

“Hey what the hell? I was in that bar too.” Hunk sounded like he might actually be offended. Which was weird so I opened his mouth to answer.

 

“Both of you shut up and try to focus,” Pidge interjected, as if sensing the decline of the conversation. 

 

“Fine.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I cooled my heels, doubting it mattered all that much if we were spotted or not. When it came to monsters, their own arrogance was the best weapon against them most of the time. One way or another this undead piece of shit would get what was coming to him soon enough. 

 

“Our intel is showing the target is heading East,” Pidge said. “Which you know, means turn left when you leave the parking lot.” 

 

“Yeah duh, but thanks anyway.” I started the engine, smoke balanced on my lip. “I have to say for how crappy this week has been, things are finally starting to look a little more promising. I might actually get to shoot something.” 

 

“Yeah but do you really think you guys should be going in solo on this one?” Pidge asked, fingers still working the keys as they talked. “Pretty sure Allura isn’t going to like it.” 

 

I made a annoyed sound in the back of my throat, hands gripping the wheel a little too hard as i pulled the truck out onto the dark, wet stretch of asphalt. “And risk loosing this pendejo again? Come on Pidge, this is  _ Keith _ we’re talking about. We’ve been chasing this little shit since Seattle, remember? What kind of hunters would that make us to back out now?” 

 

“Living ones?” Hunk said conversationally, but he was half distracted, fussing with the weapons already. 

 

“Can we please not talk about Seattle?” Pidge snapped. “I’m still traumatized by that entire fiasco.” 

 

“Oh come on,”  I rolled my eyes. “Under that unique set of circumstances anyone could have lost their pants.” I gave a hasty dismissive gesture.”But that’s not what’s important.The important part is we killed some vampires. But not this vampire. Obviously he’s extra sneaky and this is our first chance to do something about it in, like, forever so I vote we stop whining and do our damn jobs. Tonight the hunter becomes the hunted.” 

 

Hunk nodded in reluctant agreement beside me. “I can’t speak to the pants thing because I wasn’t there for that part, but I will say this Keith guy seems seriously connected to the Galra Empire. It’s about time someone took him down before anyone else gets hurt.” He clicked the magazine into place. “Oh man, you’re going to love the modifications I made on this one. Nine rounds of silver bullets with a holy water infused core. You should be able to hit the target anywhere to incapacitate and a second shot to the head or heart would put dracula himself in a coffin permanently.” 

 

“Fiiiinnnee,” Pidge said with a world weary sigh. “I’m in. Boot up my eyes then why don’t you?” 

 

“Just be careful with that thing while I’m still driving,” I said. “Dios mio, you kids and your toys. The last thing I need is ‘your eyes,’ up in  _ my eyes  _ while we’re actively trailing a target.” Hunk grinned, taking the tiny drone from its case. It immediatly whirred to life, hovering between us, the green light of its camera reflecting off the windshield as we creeped out way down a darkened back road. 

 

“Ok listen to this,” Pidge said over the comms. “Keith Kogane. Age unknown, but we have records of his involvement in Galra activities over the last two decades. Hey, but this is interesting, no record of personal property and he doesn’t appear to hold an official title within the Council. Weird. Wonder what he was doing up in Seattle during the arena games…” 

 

I gave a shrug. “Meh, he’s a vampire. He was being sinister and shit. Enough said.”  

 

“Yeah though,” Hunk said thoughtfully. “What is this guy’s deal then?” 

 

“I’ll tell you his deal, amigo. Killed by vampire hunters, that’s what.” I rolled his eyes and put on the mix that started with Iggy Pop for emphases.

 

The car we were following pulled into a cul de sac of mid century ranch houses. I killed the engine before we got too close, giving my partner an expectant look. We watched as as our target climbed out and walked toward the farthest house, set back from the road by a long driveway and half obscured in trees.

 

Hunk distributed the gear, handing me two guns before putting an almost comically oversized pistol into his own holster. “What is that, a Desert Eagle? Are you worried that they’ve turned their cars into vampires too, and you will have to take them out?” Hunk said nothing. “Seriously, there’s probably enough silver in your sidearm to start a jewelry store.” 

 

“Hey, I don’t tell you how to do your job,” Hunk huffed.

 

“Are you kidding, that’s pretty much all you do!” 

 

Pidge’s voice came out sharply into the comms. “Well now I’m telling you both how to do your jobs. If you are going in there, get to it!”

 

Turning back to his case, Hunk pulled out a knife. “There’s just the one car and he went in alone. Do you think that means there is only one of them in there?” 

 

“Probably.” I gave him a toothy grin. “Wanna go find out? I know I do. Vámonos.”

 

“You’re so weird.” 

 

“What because I think this is the fun part?”

 

“Yes,” Pidge and Hunk said in unison. 

 

“Whatever.” I gave Pidge’s drone a friendly little nudge. “Why hunt vampires if you don’t like hunting vampires? Come on let’s go say hello.” 

 

We hiked up through the trees, coming back down onto the property from the westside hugging close to the house as we looped around back. The house was dark, the only sound the soft buzz of Pidge’s drone and the occasional light crunch of our boots. Without a word Hunk had out his lock pick and was down on one knee working to get us through the backdoor. 

 

“My thermal readings aren’t bringing up anything,” Pidge’s voice in our ears broke through the silence. “No living lifeforms detected. Also I was able to pull the address up on a real estate listing and a obituary for the former owner. It’s possible no one is currently living here.” The door gave a light popping sound, creaking open a couple of inches. Hunk stood, putting away the pick and drawing his weapon from his holster as we entered the house. I drew one of my sidearms and followed. 

 

“Oh shit,” Hunk said, taking a step back and almost bumping into me. “We have a body. Ugh, there is blood everywhere. Don’t step in it, man.” I looked over his shoulder and grimaced at the scene: a middle aged man face down on the patterned linoleum, the pool of thick blood that spread out around him giving the room a meaty metallic scent.     

 

“If the owner is already dead who the fuck is this?” I hissed, my voice pitched low. “It’s not the target.” I place two finger on the back of his neck. “Body’s cold.”

 

Hunk gave a scrutinizing look around the room. “Don’t know. Let’s clear the house and then deal with this dude.” 

 

“Sure, good plan.” I slid past him, taking the lead into the living room. There were drop cloths over the shapes of furniture, their silhouettes outlined by the lights from the street. I should still be pumped and in a way I was, but the dead guy had put a bit of a damper on my night. I hated human victims, one more innocent life we hadn’t showed up soon enough to save. We worked through the rooms of the house, methodically clearing them of any kind of murderous undead. The place was clearly unlived in, the current decor dating to sometime in the mid 70s. Unless wood paneling had made some kind of comeback and I had just failed to notice. It was when we got to the back bedroom that we got the second shock of the night. 

 

“Hey is that another body on the bed?” Hunk asked. “Ugh this is just bizarre.”       

 

I blinked in the gloom, mind racing as I took in the pale figure on the bare mattress of the sparsely furnished room. “Watch the door,” I ordered before moving forward, leaning over the prone figure. He took in the familiar square jaw and heavy lidded eyes. “Santa Madre de Dios. This is Shiro.”

 

“Who?” asked Hunk  from the doorway. 

 

“Shiro?” Pidge echoed. 

 

I made a frustrated noise. “He was trained a couple of classes ahead of us. He was  _ good _ . Disappeared on assignment about a year ago. He..he has some kind of prosthetic arm. That’s new. And gross.” I felt a rising horror as I took in the foreign metal appendage, the scars across his body, Shiro’s all too still face framed by yellowing floral wallpaper, like some kind of thrift store saint. What in the hell was going on here? I felt for a pulse at his throat and shuddered at how cold to the touch he was. “Hey Pidge, a little help here? I think he’s not doing so well.” 

 

“Worse than that.” Pidge sounded strange to my ears. “I’m not detecting any vital signs. I’m sorry but he’s dead.”

 

No. I felt bile rise in  my throat. “Shit shit shit,” I clenched my fists, feeling hopeless and angry. “Okay,” I said horsley, turning away from the awful scene. “First we find that walking corpse, Keith, and then we deal with this.” I heard Pidge start to shout something, alarm in their voice, but the words were a jumbled mess as I was grabbed by the arm and yanked backwards, head slamming hard against the wall with a sickening crack, the pain making me gag and my vision blur. I heard a shot go off, fumbled for my own weapon, but then there was a hand around my throat, so tight I couldn’t breath and then there was nothing.  

*-*-*

 

The icy water ran over my head and down my neck and I jerked awake with a snort, grimacing at the pain in my shoulder, the discomfort of my position, the burn and ache of the tender skin around my throat. I was down to boxers and a t-shirt, weapons gone, arms and legs bound to a chair, pulled too tight, making my limbs tingle. I was in the basement of a house, concrete floors and bare lightbulbs offset by the addition of a washer and dryer, the neat row of pink and blue detergent and fabric softener bottles standing out in the gloom. The same house? A different one? I couldn’t say. 

 

There was also a pale face hovering near mine, coming slowly into focus. I listened to its low rapid breathes, felt the ruffle of air in my bangs. “Que pasa, amigo?” My throat felt wrecked, burned raw and my voice cracked when I spoke. 

 

The creature pulled back and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked like a child, a skinny boy in his late teens wearing dark jeans and a black mesh shirt. His blue-grey eyes were rimmed in smudgy black makeup, skin as smooth and white as a china doll. Half his head was shaved, the other half a curtain of oily black hair. I scoffed in disgust. I was looking at somebody’s carefully crafted toy, a pet assembled from young human flesh. My stomach churned at the thought. “Where’s Hunk?” I demanded. 

 

“Lance Hernández McClain,” the boy said the name slow, like he was tasting it, his gaze moving from cold, mud stained feet, up my torso to meet my eyes. “You are a very annoying bunch aren’t you?” 

 

I made a choking sound and blew the air out of my lungs in a mix between a laugh and a sob. “Look here, Skrillex, why don’t you just get to your point? I’m not all that into this vampiro emo theatrics.”

 

He sighed, looking annoyed. “I remember you. You were the naked guy that crashed the party on Mercer Island last summer.”

 

“No,” I objected vehemently. “Not naked. Just my pants. There were a fuck ton of candles in that place. It could have happened to anyone.” 

 

“No. I don’t think so. You’re very reckless by nature.” He swept closer, leaning in languidly, hands moving over the knots at my wrists, toying with the raw edge where rough rope met flesh. “And you’ve shown up at a very inconvenient time.” The boy’s nails were painted black and chipped, I found myself staring at them as they trailed up my arms. I shivered, a mix of disgusted and something else I’d rather not put a name to running through my body. I thrashed against the touch. “Get away from me, puta del diablo.” 

 

The kid’s eyes were cold as he regarded me, lips pursed. “I took four years of high school Spanish, you know.” He used his foot to tip the chair back. I felt the arc of my fall, that sickening weightlessness before my still sore head connected with the floor with a painful crack, the shock radiating down my back. 

 

I let out a grunt and tried to focus on the exposed beams of the ceiling, ignoring the tight feeling in my lungs. “Well translate this you little shit,” I ground out. “Besa mis huevos. I don’t care what you do to me.” 

 

“Tsk now, Lance, you should know better than to ask for kisses from me.” I heard footsteps on the concrete as the kid moved closer. Then there was a blur of black in the corner of my eye as a weight settled over my upended lap. The kid stretched like a cat, draping himself over the pinned body beneath him, inky hair swinging loose, tickling my cheek. He smelled of roses and incense, the faintest tang of copper. “Shiro doesn’t want me to kill you, but you realize better than most that there are still so many delicious possibilities for us.” 

 

“Shiro…” I coughed, my throat so painfully raw. “Shiro’s  _ dead. _ ” 

 

“Mmm. Indeed.” Cool fingers traced jawline, blunt nails biting right below his ear, leaving little stinging indentations that made his eyes flutter rapidly. “Do you think hunter blood tastes different than other people?” I looked away with an involuntary jerk, sicked and helpless against whatever was about to happen. I swallowed tightly, my heart beating hard in my chest, cold sweat forming on the back of my neck. The boy smiled. “So shy all of a sudden?” 

 

Our eyes met. “Where’s Shiro right now?” 

 

“Hmph. Disposing of a body. We thought we’d have a few more days, but it seems you scooby doo types had other plans. I assume authorities are coming--because of that little flying box thing that Shir smashed?” He was drumming his fingers idly on my chest, his voice almost a purr now.  

 

“Si, the calvary is most certainly coming. That thing was hooked up straight to the Garrison. They know everything that happened.” 

 

He sighed and I felt it against my body. “I figured as much, but it’s still pretty obnoxious. Oh Lance, what am I going to do with you? You’re a pickaxe in a situation that dearly requires a scalpel.” 

 

“Get off of me.” 

 

“Do you know what vampire blood tastes like? Have you ever had it before? You’ve certainly had ample opportunity to take a little taste from what I’ve heard. Do you enjoy killing? That’s an unusual trait in a human isn’t it?”

 

I grit my teeth, face going hot in impotent rage, in a desire to be able to fight this. “I am going to kill you, pendejo. I am going to rip that ridiculous hipster head from your skinny little shoulders, if I have to do it with my bare hands, if its the last thing I ever do.” 

 

“Don’t make me laugh.” Keith caught a hand in My hair and yanked hard, forcing my head up, exposing my throat. “You make an interesting point though. I was going to say that our blood tastes like sacrifice, sweet as altars. But how much death has sunk into your bones, _mi_ _amigo_? What has that done for your seasoning hmm? Shall I take a little peek?” 

 

“Don’t.” It sounded too much like a plea, almost a sob to my ears and didn’t my pride ache at that? My skin crawled to have this thing on top of me, the corpse coldness of it, this dead boy with the pretty doll face, like a puppet with a monster inside it. “ _ Keith _ don’t.”

 

“Oh so you do know my name?” Ice lips touched my skin and I jerked and swore. I had been attack before, but never like this, never held down and forced to passively accept it. My breath hitched at the sharp pain, sick with the knowledge that I’d been punctured, the sensation of that cold, hungry mouth pressing into me, drawing the life to it in a lewd suck. The feeling became a deep ache, an insistent throb that ran down to the core of me. Keith’s other hand curled against my cheek, soft and relaxed. I bit hard on the inside of my cheek and tasted copper as I willed myself not to scream. Horrible, degrading, my eyes burned as tears slipped from them and rolled down the sides of my face to pool in the shell of my ear. Was it worse because I’d grown to trust my own strength, to believe I was the savior and not the victim?    

 

When Keith drew back, he flipped his hair out of his eyes and sighed. The white collar of my t-shirt was stained red. “Not bad,” he said flashing a row of pink stained teeth, tongue exploring the corner of his mouth experimentally. “You’re looking kind of green in the gills, though. I hardly took any, you big baby. Better buckle up. This is only the beginning, sweetheart.”     

  
  
  



	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: thanks for the reviews and the kudos. I think I’m going to switch this story to first person, but I wanted to get you guys’ opinion before I edit the first chapter. So I apologize for the wonky POV change! Which one seem better, the 3rd person or 1st person and basically just having Lance tell this story?

Shiro’s voice was the first thing to start pulling me out of the darkness. “Oh for Christ sake, Keith. I just cleaned up one of your messes. Can you at least try to pace yourself?” 

 

And the second was the sound of that arrogant little psychopath. “What mess? I hardly got any blood on the floor. I even took most of his clothes off first. I thought I was being pretty conscientious.” 

 

“You both look positively ghoulish.” I could feel cool fingers on my throat, an icy pressure against my skin as my eyes fluttered and I came back to consciousness, every inch of my body aching dully.

 

“I didn’t take very much if you’re hungry, he’s plenty good for it.” Keith’s tone was casual with an edge of exhaustion. I suppose torture can really take it out of a person. Poor baby. “I don’t love the nicotine, but at least he’s not a vegetarian.” There never seemed to be a limit to how grossed out I could be by vampires. 

 

“I already ate.” Shiro was still close, fingers stroking the aching bruises on my neck. I groaned, head lolling back and forth on the concrete floor. My wrists and ankles burned where they were still bound with rope, would be rubbed raw by morning.  

 

“Hmph. I hope you were careful. We have quite enough problems at the moment without freaking out the locals.”

 

“Of course I was careful,” Shiro snapped. “And I know we have problems because I had to trance the EMT that was driving the ambulance. They’d already loaded the Doc’s body by the time I got back to the house. It was that close to being a complete disaster. I  _ hate  _ the morgue. Tonight was a fucking shit show.”

 

“Well I think by now you’d know a shit show when you see one. I don’t know what you want with a pet rattlesnake, anyway. I mean, he’s a trained killer, Shir.” 

 

“Yeah, so am I.” 

 

Keith snorted. I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly in the dim light. We were still in the basement, but I was not longer tired to a chair. My skin itched where it was smeared with dry, flaking blood. There was quite a bit painted across Keith’s pale skin too, sticking to the mesh of his flimsy raver shirt. My stomach lurched. “Are you suggesting we fight him in the arena too?”

 

Shiro gave a slight shrug. “He has training. It’s not the worst idea. The human matches are more popular than the vamp ones. We can only get so far with me as your only fighter.”

 

Keith let out a sharp, surprised laugh. “Jesus Christ. You could warn me when you have a lunatic idea like that. I might have introduced myself a little differently here.”

 

“I was a little pressed for time. They almost took our dead MD off to the hospital for a very thorough examination, remember? Besides, he’d learn you like playing up the monster sooner or later. Might as well start out with honesty—otherwise it just feels like manipulation.” 

 

“Hey I’m honest. I never tried to sell you a single bit of horseshit did I?”

 

I watched Shiro study him for a moment, face blank. “No I don’t believe you have.”

 

“But seriously? You’re kinda overlooking the part where—and I’m not even saying I’m actually considering this—if we did use him, I’d have an actual human slave on my hands. Thet feels counter productive.” 

 

“No,” I shook my head, horrified. “No, no, no.” My voice was cracking, barely more than a whisper. 

 

“You gave me a choice. I said yes,” Shiro said. 

 

“Yeah but I actually  _ like _ you and you’d already been turned. It’s not like you had a lot of real appealing counter offers.”

 

I tried to sit up and Shiro shoved me back down to the floor without breaking eye contact with Keith. “Stay put and be quiet for a second.”

 

Keith smirked. “So you’re going be the one to train him? Teach him what it means to be human slave in the Galra empire?”

 

“I kind of assumed you’d enjoy that part.”

 

“Oh fuck you Shiro. I’m not the one that kidnapped a Garrison hunter and on fucking camera at that. Do you guys know each other or something?” 

 

“He knew my name so we must have met, but I don’t remember.”

 

I let out a frustrated sigh, my face going hot and not at all enjoying the effortless strength Shiro was using to hold me in place. “¡ _ Ay _ ,  _ Dios mío _ ! I can hear everything you two cabrones are saying, you know. I’m right here.” 

 

“Thanks genus,” Keith said, aiming his frustration in my direction. “You must have been the top of your class then?” 

 

I glared back, gritting my teeth. “Que les jodan a todos. I’m not doing anything to play into whatever sick game you’re running. Shiro how did this happen? They made you into a monster.” 

 

Shiro pulled me into a sitting position by the front of my bloodied shirt until he was so close I could feel his breath when he spoke. “I think you will learn,  _ little boy _ , that monsters come in more than one form and it isn’t so black and white.” 

 

I swallowed my throat feeling dry as I willed my limbs not to tremble. “Ok, well this has been really great,” Keith said, clearing his throat, “but it’s almost dawn and I think it’s time to call it a night. I’ll get us cleaned up, since you’re so tired of picking up after me. Shiro go get the handcuffs. There is a radiator in the dining room with your name on it, Lance. Come on.” 

 

I made a choked off objection as he stepped around Shiro and reached for me. For his size he was shockingly strong, hoisting my bound body up over his shoulder in a fireman carry with ease.

 

“Ok,” said Shiro, his tone unreadable. 

 

“Put me down, pendejo,” I snarled. 

 

I felt the vibration of Keith’s chuckle. “I could drop you if you really want me to, but it would probably hurt like hell, be funny though. I’m tired so shut up already. Nobody is deciding anything until tomorrow night so just deal with it.” 

 

“I’ve already decided everything I need to decide.”

 

“Oh?” Keith was working his way up the basement stairs, the motion and the angle of my head starting to make me nauseous. 

 

“I’m going to kill both of you.” 

 

Keith let out a sigh. “If we’re keeping you, you’re going to have to come up with better dialogue than that.” 

 

“You’re not keeping me!”

 

“Yeah probably not.” Once we reached the first floor of the house he moved down a hallway, nudging a door open with his foot. He flipped on the bathroom light before setting my ass down on a plush pink bath mat. Unlike the last house this one looked very much lived in, with matching hand towels and a shelf full of toiletries. 

 

“Who lives here?” I asked a feeling of dread crawling up my spine.

 

“Bob and Martha.” Keith was kneeling by my legs, working the knots of my restraints. “Nice retired couple from what I could tell, although--and you’ll see what I mean in the dining room--not really my taste in decor.” 

 

“Wha—What happened to them?” I felt a rising horror that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. 

 

Keith paused for a moment and met my eyes. “Nothing. As far as I know they’re enjoying a two week cruise in the Bahamas. If you need to piss, now would be the time. I’m going to untie your hands so you can hold your own dick.  _ Please _ by all things holy don’t make me have to consider other options.”

 

“How do you know that?” I demanded, which seemed to inspire Keith to run the palms of his hands down his face.

 

“Do I dare ask?” he moaned. “The pissing part or that you can’t be trusted to have your hands free without doing something obnoxiously machismo?” 

 

“The couple,” I ground out as he pulled my hands up and undid the knot with rough efficiency. “How did you know they were out of town?” My fingers tingled as I flexed the circulation back into them. 

 

“Hacked into a travel agency website. Apparently they always take a trip this time of year. Makes sense. The weather is shit. Can you stand up?” 

 

“Yes,” I said, pushing away his hand. “Don’t touch me.”

 

Keith let me flop around for a little bit trying to get my legs under me before standing himself and hauling me up by the armpits. “Here,” he said, moving me several stumbling steps forward until I was bracing one hand against the wall as I stood in front of the toilet, my face flaming in humiliation, loathing him and myself in equal parts. Then he yanked my boxers down around my ankles and I thrashed and shrieked with enough protest that I stumbled backwards falling back down on my tailbone with a painful thud, my blood splattered undergarments still tangled around my feet. 

 

“Don’t do shit like that!” I snarled, furious and flustered and having the bonus of now laying on the floor with my polla hanging out. This was quite possibly a new low point in my chosen career path.

 

“Lance,” Keith said, his voice alarmingly quiet. “I realize that I played a part in your current deplorable condition, so I am trying not to take my frustration out on your breathtakingly weak human body, but we are quickly reaching a tipping point with my patience here.” 

 

My head was throbbing, my vision slightly greying at the edges. I made the extremely mature decision to flip him off, even lifting my hand to make the gesture, suddenly feeling like a lot of effort. “I seriously hate you. Like in a really personal way and a lot more than I’ve ever hated any other vampire.” 

 

“Aww. That’s sweet.” He reached down and tossed my boxers away. “You want to pee or what?” 

 

“Yeah.” I hated everything about admitting that. 

 

“Okay, let’s try that again.” After I’ managed to get to my feet and relieve my bladder, I gave into my dizziness and slumped back to my knees. Keith gave me a hesitant side glance before turning his attention to the shower. “I tend to run it really hot, because you know no circulation, so you’ll have to tell me if it’s too much.”

 

“Excuse me?” I asked, eyes focusing on the tile floor in an attempt to keep the world from spinning. 

 

He snapped his fingers, pointing at me. “Cookies and orange Juice.”

 

“What?” I blinked rapidly. 

 

“You probably have low blood sugar. Don’t they give cookies and orange juice to blood donors? Whatever, I’ll get you something from the kitchen after this.”  

 

“How do you not—ow what are you fucking doing now cabron?” 

 

“We’re taking a shower.”

 

“We?!” I tried to fend off his hands to no avail, slapping uselessly at the pale vice grips that removed my shirt and then deposited me into the tub like I was wet laundry. “No no no. I do not take showers with vampires, overly familiar, blood stealing, emo...” I stopped talking as the water pummeled me. “Fuck,” I gasped. It was almost scalding. 

 

“Too hot?” Keith asked. He was taking off his pants and I quickly turned my head to study the wall. I would have kept my mouth shut if my skin was blistering. To hell with asking for anything. How on earth was this even happening? I’d expected to have my throat torn out, to be drained of blood until I was as white as a ghost, always knew that kind of death was a possibility. But when Keith stepped into the shower, all pale nudity, the water sluicing off his body in pink trickles, tinged with my blood, my mind gave up. Whatever the hell this was, it was so beyond my capacity to process, so surreal I felt almost giddy. “Hey hunter boy,” Keith threw a purple loofah so it bounced off my nose and settled on my chest. “Stop staring and start scrubbing.” 

 

I picked up the loofah and studied it in my hand like it was a grenade with the pin out. “You’re insane.”

 

Keith was standing over me naked as the day he was born, running fingers through his oil black locks, tilting his head back as the water ran over the top of his head. I only dared to let myself regester the act from the corner of my eye, not letting my vision move past his narrow shoulders. Was that the glint of metal in his nipples? Don’t think about it, never think about it, I ordered my subconscious. “Do you honestly want me to do it for you? Believe me, it won’t go well for you.”

 

I sat up as best I could, cringing when my movements caused my leg to brush against his. “Don’t touch me.” 

 

“Okay. But I think we’re well beyond that at this point, don’t you? If I want to touch you, I’m going to do it.”

 

I glared back, beginning to make circular motions across my skin with the loofah, watching the water that hit my body flair reddish pink and then run down the drain. The steam and heat was making my head light and I found myself half hoping for the momentary relief of just fucking passing out again already.

 

After the shower, I was dragged down the hall, naked and limp, into the master bedroom. Keith had nothing on but the towel around his waist. “I really hate the direction all of this is going,” I said, my tone watered down by exhaustion, letting myself be deposited on the bed without protest and letting my limbs sprawl out as they saw fit. 

 

“Mmm. I suspect that’s going to continue.”

 

“Ugh,” I said. “Just leave me right here. Forget the radiator.” 

 

“Ha! Nice try trained vampire killer. I’m just looking for something for you to wear, then off you go. Oh good, Shiro there you are. Get him dressed in these would you?” 

 

“Sure.” A moment later I felt hands on my knees, the brush of flannel against my skin. “You don’t look so good,” Shiro murmured over me. “How much did you take Keith?” He was sticking my feet into the pajama bottoms and pulling them up my thighs without asking.

 

“Enough that he isn’t fighting tooth and nail over every little thing. I also tranced him for a bit before you got here, so maybe he’s just sensitive to psychic suggestion? Jeez. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

 

I felt a flash of anger and fear. “You did what?” I demanded, pushing myself up onto my elbows. I looked down to discover my pants were pink and covered in a pattern of kittens. “You—you scrambled my brain? What the hell am I wearing? Seriously?”

 

Keith smirked from across the room. He’d already changed into an impossibly tight pair of black jeans and was pulling a hole filled band t-shirt over his head, his wet hair still plastered to his face and neck. “You want clothes or not?”

 

“I  _ hate _ you.” Shiro was making that blank expression again as he handed me the shirt he’d been holding. It had a unicorn across the front of it. “Santos nos preserve,” I mumbled under my breath as I pulled the thing over my head. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writer blog come say hi!


	3. Chapter 3

When I woke it was dark outside. My back was against the wall, body stiff from being forced to hold a sitting position all day while I was handcuffed to the radiator. I blinked a few times, hazily rolling my head from side to side. Keith was there, sitting, legs crossed on the dining room table. He was painting his fingernails black from a little bottle of polish. 

 

“Good evening pendejo,” I croaked out, sputtering off into a coughing fit that made me screw my eyes shut for a moment.  _ Dios Mio _ , I felt like hell.

 

“Water and aspirin are to your left,” he said without looking up from his hand. I turned, the metal from the cuffs clanging, and opened the bottle of pills, knocking back three without question before downing the entire glass of water in one continuous gulp. “So,” Keith looked up from examining his fingers and met my glare. “We’re probably going to have some trust issues for the foreseeable future.” 

 

“Uh, you mean because you’re a kidnapping psychopath?” 

 

“Well technically the kidnapping was Shirio’s idea, not mine. And you’re the one that showed up with a murder squad, so you’re hardly the innocent party in all this.” He was still wearing that ratty t-shirt and jeans, his feet bare and his hair shadowing his eyes. 

 

“Oh like you’re one to talk,” I said sounding stupidly defensive. “Who was the dead dude on the kitchen floor anyway?”

 

“That was a personal matter.” Keith gave a little noncommittal shrug. “He hurt a great many people and then Shiro and I hurt him. Not all victims are innocent.” 

 

I clenched my teeth in frustration. “You know, it isn’t really murder if you’re already dead, bloodsucker. So it’s not much of a murder squad.” 

 

Keith nodded, tone still conversational. “I’m picking up on some pretty major differences in our worldviews here.” He paused to blow on his nails. “In any case, the grownups were kind of in the middle of some things when you guys came along, so I’m going to need to put this situation on the back burner while we sort out the rest of our shit.” 

 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

 

“It means, I don’t have a ton of time to waste ensuring your cooperation, and I’d prefer you not be a gigantic pain in my ass while we finish up here.”  

 

I laughed at that. “Don’t hold your breath cabron...or do. I guess it doesn’t really matter in your case.” 

 

“Mmm. Shiro thinks he’s going to be able to reason with you. I have my doubts.”

 

“Look, it’s been a really terrible 36 hours or so and unless the next thing out of your mouth has something to do with me getting a cup of coffee and a goddamn cigarette I’m probably not going to be super interested.”   

 

“Oh look,” Keith clapped his hands together. “Here’s Shiro now with the restraints.” 

 

“The what? What the hell?”  I glanced over at the man in question as he entered the room, several bags in his hands. He looked at my seated form with mild interest, his calm unsettling. 

 

Keith snorted. “Ha! Liar. You’re interested in what I have to say now I bet.” I rolled my eyes, not gratifying that with a answer. 

 

“Are you feeling any better?” Shiro asked.  

 

I scowled up at him, his broad frame relaxed but still intimidating. There was a large patch of grey hair along his hairline that I didn’t remember seeing in our school days. “Not really,” I said. “Still feeling pretty beat to hell, thanks.” 

 

“Did you eat?” 

 

“Does aspirin count?” 

 

He gave Keith a disappointed look. “I thought you said there were some steaks in the freezer.” 

 

“Yeah. I took them out to thaw. You didn’t think I was going to actually cook them did you?”

 

“Yeah I did, actually.” Shirio was kneeling next to me, tracing over the bruising on my wrists from the ropes the night before, then cold fingers were moving across the raw skin of my cuffed hand.

 

“I don’t cook. It’s weird you’d assume that I would. I honestly don’t remember how.”

 

“Huh. That makes sense I guess.” I tried to jerk away from Shiro’s touch, for all the good that it did. He gave me a patronizing look, like I was a misbehaving child. I felt a weird lurch in my stomach when our eyes met. I was used to stabbing vamps through the heart, to knocking their heads from their shoulders post haste--not these prolonged physical interactions. “I’m not going to hurt you, Lance. We have more in common than you think.” 

 

I blinked at him. “Well that’s good...probably.” My eyes darted to his strange mechanical arm, the white lines of scarring. What in the hell had happened to this man? Hadn’t they said something about arena fighting?

 

“I brought some things that are going to take me a minute to adjust.” He turned over the bag and I started at the collection of shackles and chains, a thrum of alarm running involuntary through my body.

 

“Whoa! What’s going on here?! No creo, you’re not gonna put that shit on me.” 

 

“Relax.” Keith was taking a cigarette out of a pack of American Spirits and putting it to his lips, the son of a bitch. He lit up, letting the smoke curl out from between his lips as he watched us. “I admit this captor shit is all a little new to me, but Shiro’s been restrained an alarming amount of times over the last year. You’re in very good hands.” 

 

“It will be temporary,” Shiro told me, sounding strangely apologetic. “And you’ll be able to move around the room a little more.” He had out a tool box and was already running a length of chain through a metal ring. 

 

“Por amor de Christo, then give me a damn cigarette while he does this at least.” I sounded whiny even to my ears.

 

Keith hopped off the table, extending the hand with the smoke. “Here, you can have the rest of this one. I don’t get what you see in these things, they’re nasty.” 

 

I took it with a huff. “Don’t waste them then.” I could have fought harder, I suppose, resisted or tried to weaponize something out of the toolbox, but I was already feeling the affects of my current injuries and didn’t really see the point in inviting another though ass kicking.

 

Keith watched as Shiro looped a chain around my neck and then ran it down my chest and looped it through the shackles around my wrists before moving further down to start on my ankles. “So,” I asked into the silence. “How’d you two meet?” 

 

“Not at the local toastmasters,” Shiro said dryly, checking the tightness of one of the metal cuffs he was fitting. “That feel okay?”

 

“Peachy.” 

 

“I bought him.”

 

I looked up at Keith trying to process his words. I felt a cold appreciation building in my chest. “You what?” Could this situation get any more fucked up?

 

“I purchased him from the slave cages at the Galra pit fights. It’s a brutal existence for any human that finds themselves enslaved by that merciless empire, but the arena has its own particular cruelty.” The gladiatorial battles were infamous—bloody and savage entertainment for the Galra elite—but I’d never met anyone that had actually witnessed one, let alone participated. He made a sound of amusement. “It’s actually been a good financial investment.”

 

My eyes flicked to Shiro, my heart thudding in my chest. He was rolling his eyes at Keith. “You’re ridiculous.” He said.

 

“And then you made him into a vampire?” I demanded, horrified. 

 

“No he didn’t,” Shiro said, his mouth a tight line. “Do you want to use the bathroom before I attach this to the wall?” 

 

“But if not Keith how…” I stuttered. 

 

“I’ll take him,” Keith interjected. “Come on, Cool Hand Luke, let’s see how you move in those things.” 

 

###

 

I splashed another handful of cold water on my face, pressing fingers to my eyelids as Keith watched me from the doorway of the bathroom. I took in my reflection. I looked pretty seedy, with day old stubble and dark circles under my eyes. 

 

“Is that what happened to his arm?” I asked. “He lost it in the arena.”

 

“Yes. When he was still human.”

 

I swallowed, my head swimming. “I’ve never seen a prosthetic like that.”

 

“It’s Galra technology. It uses techomagic to connect to the brain, so yeah you wouldn’t have. Body enhancements among fighters has become increasingly popular though. From what I’ve seen, the arm is on the noninvasive side.” 

 

“Oh.” I’d met a few witches in my line of work, but the Garrison discouraged too much interaction with the supernatural world and besides that they tended to be distrustful of hunters in the first place. Something about being a trained assassin tended to send folks in the opposite direction. “So if you didn’t turn him, who did?” 

 

“Someone that wanted to recoup their investment by selling him as a vamp fighter rather than letting him die of his injuries.” Keith met my eyes in the mirror. “It was no kindness, but when it comes to the Galra Empire, it rarely is. Maybe lay off hounding him about it huh?” 

 

I swallowed, my mouth feeling dry. “And now he’s, like, your slave?” 

 

Keith looked amused. “On paper, yes. You’d be amazed the social standing having a successful arena shark can provide. And believe me he’s very good. Whatever your Garrison started has been honed by agony and pain in the pits. To fight Shiro is to take a dance with death.” 

 

“You’re a monster” 

 

“Yes.” Keith moved forward in a flash too quick for me to react. He had me by the shirt and stumbling backwards into his grasp before I knew what was happening. A beat later and my back was slammed hard against the wall. I grunted in complaint as his slim form pressed into me, pinning me there.”I’ve never claimed to be otherwise. Hold still.”

 

“Wha…” My line of questioning broke off as he sunk fingers into my hair, yanking my head back and exposing my throat. “Shit. No way, pendejo. Don’t you fucking dare.” 

 

“This isn’t really a discussion. If you behave I’ll make it nice.”

 

“Get off! I don’t want nice!”

 

He grinned at me, flashing the points of his fangs. “Good, neither do I.” I struggled, kicking out at him, but between the shackles and his inhuman strength there wasn’t a lot I could do about cool lips that found my skin, nuzzled the bruising from the night before. It hurt when he bit down, making my body go rigid, my breath coming in short little gasps as my heart hammered in my ears. My face burned with shame, my stomach lurching as little jolts of panic ran up my spine.  _ Not again _ .  Keith pulled off after a moment. “Hey calm down. I can taste the adrenaline, jeez buddy.” 

 

“Get off me and I’ll calm down,” I grit out. I was gripping his shoulders so hard my knuckles were white, my limbs trembling. I felt hot and cold all at once, the perfume laced smell of him filling my nostrils. 

 

Keith hesitated and then shrugged. “Fine. Whatever,” he said pulling away. I used the movement, the slight turn of his attention against him. He was stronger than me, but I also had a good twenty pounds on him. I pushed off the wall, launching myself at an angle that had him off his feet and both of us sprawled awkwardly on the bathroom floor in seconds. Keith swore, making an terrifying growling sound, but I was in my element now. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I know a thing or two about showing no hesitation and getting your licks in while you can. 

 

I straddled the son of a bitch and clasped my hands together, bringing my joined fists down as hard as I could on his stupid pretty face, feeling a twinge of satisfaction when I felt his nose break.

 

Keith made a hissing sound, like water hitting a hot griddle. “Oh you’re in for it now,” he said, voice slightly naiselle, blood oozing from his rapidly swelling nose.

 

My smile was spectacular. “Worth it. I hate a bully.” He had our positions flipped so fast it knocked the wind out of me. I gasped, flailing uselessly under him as he sat across my hips. 

 

“Shut up Lance. I assume you knew you couldn’t escape so you did that for spite.”

 

I nodded in agreement. “I surely did, pendejo.”

 

“Hmm.” His eyes narrowed. “Well it hurt.” 

“Good.” 

 

“I could hurt you back.” His tone was mild despite everything. He reached down, casually brushing back my bangs from my forehead. 

 

“I had kinda assumed you would,” I said. “Like, obviously.” 

 

“Or you can let me drink enough to heal.”

 

“Huh?” I frowned. “What do you mean  _ let _ ? I thought you said this wasn’t a discussion.”

 

“Well genus, now I’m making it a discussion. Close your eyes and take a deep breath.” 

 

“Uhh nooo. Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” 

 

He reached out and forcibly turned my head to the side, pressing the tip of his nose to my pulse point. “I’d be careful to not to take too much.” 

 

“You are so gross,” I sighed, trying to ignore the weight of him on top of me. “And I hate how it feels.”

 

“Well I can work with that. Deep breath. Come on McClain, we don’t have all night.” 

 

“You’re going to do it anyway. What does it matter what I say or think?” 

He pulled back to look at me. “Not without your permission. I want you to say yes.”

 

I blinked up at him, his face was pretty messed up. If he was human he’d have two black eyes for good long time. “That’s kinda twisted,” I told him. 

 

“I won’t hurt you. I want to show you something.” 

 

“Fine,” I said, my pulse immediately kicking up a notch. “Just get it over with already.”

 

His mouth found my skin in a morbid kiss, drawing down the column of my neck, making my muscles tighten, the fear building again. “Shhh. Close your eyes,” barely a whisper near my ear. His fingers were in my hair, gently moving across my scalp, making a tingling sensation that traveled across the crown of my head and down the back of my neck. I could hear the beat of blood pumping, the overpowering thrum of life force, heat blooming in my chest then rushing down into my belly and groin. 

 

There was a pinch, then a deep ache and I groaned arching up at the perverse pleasure of it, hands fisting in the fabric of Keith’s shirt. I gasped, my eyes squeezed so tight tears began to prickle the corners of my eyes. It went on for immeasurable moments, a sensation that was all too overwhelming and not nearly enough. “More,” I sobbed, mind fuzzy and unclear of what I was even asking for. “Por favor…”

 

When Keith pulled away he had a bemused expression on his face, only the slightest red around the corners of his nose. I stared back in shock. What the hell had just happened? “Puta del diablo,” I snarled. “You tricked me.”

 

Keith just shrugged, rolling off and pulling me into a sitting position. “Did I?” 

 

###

 

“So is he just always a sadist or something?”

 

“Hmm?” Shiro was sitting across from me at the kitchen table, tinkering with the parts of Pidge’s little smashed up drone. I hadn’t realized he’d taken it. I tried not to stare at the smooth dexterity of his metal hand. 

 

“Keith, what’s his deal?” I asked. He’d disappeared shortly after our little bathroom floor incident, but I couldn’t get him off of my mind. “He’s been a real creep. You ever notice that?” I was halfway through my steak and frozen peas, already on my second cup of coffee. It was a little annoying to eat with the cuffs, but manageable. 

 

“It’s more that he’s just focused on the bigger picture. None of us matter as much as the end goal. It’s not that different than the Garrison, really.” 

 

“Except for the part where you’re vampires that torture and enslave people!” 

 

Shiro gave me a pointed look. “Hmm.” His eyes trailed down to the restraints around my wrists. “I suppose you’ve been a bit inconvenienced.” 

 

“Si, es verdad. I’m a bit put out.” I agreed. “But Keith actually goes out of his way to be a freak around me. It’s like harassment or something.” 

 

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Take it up with HR then.”

 

“Oh gee thanks a lot. What are you doing with that thing anyway?” 

 

“Seeing if I can fix it. Ultimately I’d like to try to access the Garrison databank, use their intell when we can.” 

 

I snorted at that. “More likely if you do get it going that thing will access you. You don’t want to fuck with Pidge and their tech. Trust me.” 

 

Shiro looked amused. “I’ll take that under advisement. How long have you been hunting, Lance?”  

 

I shrugged. “A couple of years in the field now.” I pushed some peas around with my fork. When I wasn’t being actively antagonized the atmosphere was surprisingly casual. Weirdest vampires ever. 

 

“And that big guy was your partner?” 

 

I looked up, startled. “Yeah. Is Hunk okay? Keith wouldn’t say.” 

 

“I admit I hit him pretty of hard, but I’m sure he’ll be fine. Maybe a broken rib or two at the worst.”

 

I bit my lip, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Right.” Poor Hunk, I owed him better than that. 

 

“The thing about the Garrison is that they make a decent soldier, but not so much a strategist. If you really want to win a war you need a lot more than just brute force. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

“Uh…”

 

“There is a lot more at play here then hunters versus vampires. A lot that you don’t know yet, but I hope in time you will.”    

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your comments and encouragement! I’m drowning in projects right now so it’s your interest in this that fueled the fire that wrote chapter 3. You’re awesome <3 I’m currently on a very ambitious weekly fic update schedule and you can follow that adventure on my blog blueghostghost.tumblr.com. I sometimes also post fic bits and early updates as well as artwork there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this chapter and would really love your thoughts. It’s been a long, hard week and my brain is mush <3 blueghostghost.tumblr.com

“You give up on Pidge’s drone already?” For lack of a better project, I was poking through the liquor cabinet. Shiro seemed happy enough for me to be shackled and in the same room as him, so I was enjoying standing for a change. There was a nice scotch in there, but I felt bad about taking it. I mean, it seemed poor Bob and Martha were going to have enough to deal with as it was. 

 

“I need more parts, so it will have to wait.” Shiro had my side arm disassembled on the kitchen table, the ammunition carefully removed and his non-metallic hand gloved to avoid making contact with any of it. “So how exactly is this modified?” 

 

“Uh well that’s more Hunk’s thing than mine.” I told him. “I think he said something about silver bullets with a holy water infused core? I didn’t really get a chance to try it out, so I couldn’t tell you how well they work.” 

 

“Hmm.. Holy water? Is that really a thing?” 

 

“I don’t know. It’s traditional right? I guess you could drop by a church and test it out for yourself. I’ve personally always favored decapitation.”

 

“Takes too long.” His tone was matter of fact. “And wastes energy.” 

 

I chuckled to myself. “Yeah I suppose it’s kind of hotshot move,” I admitted, “and it does make a mess. I had two of those bad boys. Do you have the other one?”

 

“No I think you dropped it. This one was still in the holster.”

 

“Oh, well that’s a bummer.” I gave up on the booze hunt and sat in a chair, resting my chin in my hands with a sigh. The most vampire contact I’d had in my entire life as a hunter and figures it would be exactly the opposite of exciting and interesting. “How long are you planning to stay down here anyway? I mean, is this what you do? Squat in empty houses and occasionally murder someone?” 

 

“No. This is definitely not ideal, but it should only be a few more days before Keith hears from his contacts. Theoretically we’ll be heading out after that. The next pit match isn’t for a month, so we’ll see.”

 

I raised an eyebrow at that. “Damn. You’re seriously going to fight again?”

 

“Probably. Depends on how Keith decides to play it.” His lips twitched. “He handles our social calendar for the most part.”

 

“It sounds barbaric.”

 

He made a sound of agreement. “Yes most things in our world are.” Shiro was putting the weapon back together, the metal of his hand making sounds against the metal of the parts. “I’ve come to believe that is rather the point.”

 

“Why do you help him?” I asked, incredulous. “You used to be one of us. How can you stand it?”

 

Shiro looked up at me and considered for a moment. “I believe we’re doing more good than harm.”

 

“How...how could you say that?” I asked in wonder. “After everything, that body with all the blood? What do you mean _ good _ ? You’re a slave for crying out loud! How does that work?”

 

“It’s complicated. But I can’t abandon this. It’s where I’m supposed to be.”

 

I shook my head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night—day,” I corrected. “I guess for you it would be day.” 

 

###

 

“Oh for Christ sake,” Keith had his arms crossed over his chest, his hair and jacket speckled with rain as he loomed in the entrance to the living room. 

 

I looked up from the dog eared copy of the  _ Da Vinci Code _ I’d been reading, my half smoked cigarette perched between my fingers. Three days in and I was still sporting the pink kitten pajamas, sitting in the leather easy chair with my bound feet up on the coffee table. Shiro, who had been doing God knows what on his laptop for the last four hours, stopped typing and looked at Keith too. “What?” I asked when there was no further elaboration. “¿Qué pasa?”

 

He gestured towards the sound system. “This music is garbage.” 

 

I wrinkled my nose at that. “Well first of all, our selection is limited--Bob and Martha don’t exactly have an enticing CD collection--but also who seriously calls Paul Simon garbage? Come on.” I looked towards Shiro to back me up on this one, but he didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

 

“I didn’t call Paul Simon garbage,” Keith clarified. I took a drag of my smoke, letting my eyebrows creep towards my hairline as I watched him. “ _ Graceland _ is bullshit though.”  

 

I scoffed. “What? How can you say that? Are you philosophically opposed to Ladysmith Black Mambazo? Or some kind of Garfunkle loyalist? I mean, at this point hating Graceland says more about you than it does about the album because it’s kinda awesome.”

 

“You’re an idiot.” 

 

I smiled at him sweetly. “That’s really mature of you, Keith. Shiro, come on man, back me up on this one.” 

 

Shiro shrugged. “I mean  _ Call Me Al _ is decent song, I guess.” 

 

Keith’s expression was dark. “No, it’s not.”  

 

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Did you at least bring me something to eat? I’m starving.” 

 

“Yes, but you have to turn this off before I’ll even consider feeding you.”

 

“Man, you’re in a bitchy mood. I guess whatever you went out to do didn’t go so good.” 

 

“Well that’s certainly not something that’s up for discussion. Do you want this hamburger or not?” 

 

“Yeah yeah, I’m turning it off.” I stubbed out my cigarette and pulled myself to my feet, shuffling across the carpet with the rattling impediment of my chains. 

 

“Oh just stop.” Keith crossed the room, flipping off the speakers. “Sit down. I’ll bring it in here.” He was gone for a moment and when he returned it was with a brown paper bag.

 

“I actually have great taste in music,” I informed him as I accepted the food. “But all my mixes were in the truck so I guess you’ll never get to know about it.”

 

“I guess not.” He sank onto the couch next to Shiro with a sigh. 

 

“How old are you anyway?” The french fries were still hot, which I had to admit I appreciated. “You really into chamber music or some weird shit like that?” 

 

Keith made a face and shook his head. “I’m not one of the old ones, jeez. I’m only sixty-seven, you moron.”

 

“Wow.” I ate a couple more fries. “And apparently super sensitive about it.” 

 

“I am not. Just mildly aghast at your lack of observation skills.” 

 

“Well you know,” I paused to chew a bite of hamburger thoughtfully. “One doesn’t usually need to determine the date of origin in my line of work.” 

 

“Oh I know. I’ve been dealing with you hunter lot for awhile now. You’re not a nuanced bunch.” 

 

I laughed.“Oh and you’re the epitome of subtlety? So what then? Did someone promise to rescue your mopey teenage ass from the drudgery of suburbia? Did they offer to show you the eternal embrace on a bed of roses?” Keith gave me a cold look. “Did you fall for it?” I prodded.

 

“Remind me again why I can’t just eat him?” 

 

Shiro didn’t look up from his computer. “Because he might be useful.” 

 

“You’re just mad I’m right,” I said. 

 

Keith shook his head. “You’re such a child. If you must know, I was a little too busy hauling my ass through the jungle and playing hide and seek with the Viet Cong to mope.”

 

I felt a jolt of surprise at that. “What? No way. You were in the war?”

 

“Drafted, actually. I’ve seen humans do things to each other that would make the Galra Empire blush—entire villages of women and children torn to pieces by shrapnel, bodies burned by napalm, comrades disfigured in booby traps...” 

 

“Holy shit,” I whispered. 

 

“Yeah something like that. Believe me, the darkness came for my soul a long time before I was this.” 

 

###

 

“Coffee,” I said with a directed shout and a pointed finger as a form passed the doorway of the dining room.

 

Keith paused, taking a step back to look at me. His eyes were outlined in smudgy black and he looked paler than usual. “Ask Shiro, I’m going out.” 

 

“I haven’t seen him. I also have to pee, but I have priorities and that priority is coffee.” He glared and I tried to look pathetic. “Please?” 

 

Keith let out a deep sigh. “Okay. God where the fuck is Shiro anyway?” He took out a key and unlocked the chain from the radiator, yanking it loose.

 

“How should I know?” I said rolling my shoulders as I stood. “He’s your Renfield.” He cuffed me on the shoulder harder than I think he meant to. “Ow, que demonios? Why are you so mean?”

 

“Just for that I’m carrying you. You walk too slow.” 

 

“Hey,” I yelped as he hoisted me up over his shoulder in a completely undignified manner. “This feels terrible on my bladder, you know.”

 

“I strongly suggest you restrain yourself.” 

 

“Well I could use a change of clothes though,” I said as we moved down the hallway, my arms dangling against his back.

 

“Ugh. Shut up Lance. I’m hungry, having a bad night and am naturally impatient with this shit.”

 

“Well you shouldn’t get a pet until you’re ready for the responsibility,” I told him as he set my feet down on the tile floor. 

 

He pressed fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Just go pee, before I change my mind and decide to make  _ you _ my dinner.” 

 

“What is it with you and assaulting people in bathrooms?” Too bad he was so grumpy, I really could use a shower, but I wasn’t going to push it.

 

“What is with you and wasting my time? Your chances of getting coffee are diminishing by the second.” 

 

“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’m doing it, I’m doing it, geez.” He waited while I finished up and washed my hands. 

 

“You want coffee or a change of clothes? I can do one.”

 

“Oh, dude, coffee no question,” I said, putting my arms out in a gesture for him to pick me up again. “Come on strong guy. Let’s do this.” 

 

###

 

I was in the dining room, a length of my chain attached to the radiator and sitting on the mattress they’d drag out here for me. Suddenly there was cacophony of sound, making me nearly jump out of my skin. “Madre de Dios!” I shouted as the familiar refrains of The Clash's  _ London Calling _ , filled my ears. “Give me a heart attack why don’t you?”

 

Keith was there a moment later, grinning down at me. He was wearing a sweatshirt with a picture of  David Bowie on it, his hair swept up away from his face in a utilitarian ponytail. “Went to the record store,” he told me. “The kid behind the counter was kinda cute...and also so, so stoned. Still tasty though.” 

 

“Oh shit. You didn’t hurt him did you?” 

 

He frowned. “No, of course not. I only took a little, but he was totally tranced. Won’t remember a thing.”  _ Only took a little. _ I’d head that one before. I eyed him suspiciously as he handed me a beer and then sat down on my mattress. “Seriously he told me to have a nice night and everything.” 

 

“So are you, like, high or something?” I asked, staring at the bottle of IPA in my hand, not sure what to make of this unexpected generosity. 

 

He considered for a moment. “No, not terribly. Maybe a little buzzed, but it’s hard to tell. Oh you need to open that.” He got up to find a bottle opener in one of the drawers of the China cabinet before returning to sit down next to me again.

 

I took it and cracked off the cap, downing a swig of beer before talking. It was good, bitter and rich on my tongue. “So is that what you did to me in the bathroom the other night? The trance thing?” I admit, I was still feeling a pretty salty about that one. 

 

Keith pursed his lips. “Little bit.”

 

I scowled. “I think it goes without saying, I don’t much like the idea of you rummaging around in my head.”

 

“Understandable, I suppose.” Joe Strummer was still going on in the next room, singing something about his dislike of the Beatles. “Although I didn’t really do,” he made a vague gesture, “...much. Did you get any training around psychic attacks? Shiro gave me the impression you don’t do that at the Garrison.” 

 

“Uh...not really. I mean there obviously aren’t any vamps around and other supernaturals kind of give us a wide berth, you know?” 

 

He considered me for a moment. “You’re too skittish with your subject matter. Your leaders fear the supernatural too much to master it—no witches in your ranks, no deep undercover operations within the Galra Empire. You’re sending in Boy Scouts to do a rebel fighters job.” 

 

Keith was sitting so close our arms were practically touching. A day or two earlier and I might have been afraid, but now I was mostly just annoyed. “Thanks for the consult, I guess?”

 

“You’re very young. I find it hard sometimes to remember what that was like.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Wow that’s not condescending at all. Thanks for the beer though.”

 

Keith snorted, jostling my shoulder with his. “Chill. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that you’re not broken, not the way Shiro and I are.” 

 

“Well duh.” I told him. “How many well adjusted vampires do you know?”

 

He gave me a smile that was all teeth—closer to a sneer—that sent a small shiver up my back. Alright, so the creep factor hadn’t completely worn off. “And here I was trying to be honest with you.”

 

“Oh I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?” 

 

He pursed his lips again, looking peevish. “I think the thing I’m feeling is more like irritation.”

 

The song had changed to  _ Rudie Can’t Fail _ , that cheerful kicky beat filling the house. “Sorry, not trying to pick a fight.” I was surprised that I meant it. “So you’re saying even for vamps you guys are on the messed up side?”

 

“The things we’ve been through, the things we’ve done to other people to survive or otherwise. I guess I’ve always recognized something in Shiro that’s like me, a dark numbness where empathy used to be.”

 

“That’s not an excuse.”

 

Keith nodded in agreement. “No, it’s not.” We were silent for a moment, a strange heaviness to the air. “That dead man, the doctor that we killed back at the other house, he was the person that built Shiro’s arm.”

 

“No mames,” I breathed, eyes going wide. “What the hell? You  _ killed _ him?” 

 

“Yes.” His voice was downright icey. “Surely you understand the value of doing what must be done to ensure there is one less monster in the world? I suspect that my justifications are not so different than yours were when you attempted to end me.” 

 

I decided to file that whopper away to ponder over later, because  _ ay Dios mio _ that made my head hurt. “And Shiro’s into all this craziness too? Because you’re two peas in a fucked PTSD pod?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Man and I thought you were emo before, now you’re just gilding the lily.”

 

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Why thank you, Lance. That’s a very helpful observation.”

 

I gave him my best smile, the one that made my cheeks dimple. “You’re welcome. So while you were in town making out with record shop boys, did you happen to to pick up any cigarettes?” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. Do you guys want more of this? Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writer blog please come say hi


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